


Down For It

by truejaku (hereonourstreet)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder, DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Facials, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereonourstreet/pseuds/truejaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Mizunoiz PWP with a shitty title but some rad ass blowies</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down For It

**Author's Note:**

> a slight **cw** other than the obvious tagged smut: dirty talk includes a couple instances of the word slut (i know that isn't some people's jam)

            You stretch out along the bed, your stomach pulling taut and your dick growing harder with each nail that Mizuki adds to your side. He digs in deep and then pulls your flesh downward; you can’t see your hips but you know they’re _covered_ in marks: little red scratches and pale bruises that you can’t wait to see blossom into purples and blues – pale bruises that you’ll catch a glimpse of in the mirror every time you reach up to grab a glass from Mizuki’s medicine cabinet and your shirt rides up. Pale bruises that will make you think of Mizuki, make you think of this, and make your dick twitch right then and there.

            He grabs your waistband and pulls your sweatpants down, just to your thighs, and then he sinks his nails in there, too. Even _your_ skin is more sensitive there, and you arch your back into him. He kisses your dick through your briefs.

            “Are you gonna suck it or what?”

            He smiles at you. That smile that means, _“Good job, you just earned another five minutes of teasing.”_ You should know by now to keep your mouth shut, but you can’t help it. It’s an automatic reaction: Mizuki teases you and you immediately can’t take it. You need him, all the time.

            You groan and rock your head back against the pillow as he nips at your thigh, softly at first and then gradually growing sharper and sharper, less and less skin pulled up and pinched between his front teeth. You try to let him know that it hurts – in a good way – by tugging on his hair and telling him how good he is, but all you manage to do is scrabble for purchase against the sheets and garble your words in your throat. You are not sexy, and Mizuki is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

            He slides his fingers up into your briefs, pulling them upwards around your balls and you wish he would just get on with it, but you chastised him, and now you have to live with it. Mizuki never responds well to being told to hurry up – or slow down – or anything, now that you think about it. Mizuki doesn’t like being told what to do in bed, not unless that’s the whole point of the scene, in which case, Mizuki is the best sub in the world (other than you, maybe). Mizuki is better at doing whatever he wants to you, whenever he wants to do it – within reason, of course. He’d never do anything you don’t want and if you tell him to stop, he does, immediately. But he’s better at surprising you every time with how much _more_ loving he can be. _Loving_ is actually too kind a word for what he does: torturous and slow moving, like a geriatric tortoise, is more what this feels like.

            You are hard, though, and that’s what counts.

            “Did you want me to suck this?” he asks suddenly, his fingers grazing over your clothed dick. You frown.

            “Uh huh.”

            “You want me to put _your_ dick in _my_ mouth?”

            You groan and nod.

            “That’s filthy.”

            “Shut up,” you say. “Sucking dick is your favorite pastime.”

            “Oh,” Mizuki laughs, sitting up and looking you in the eye. You can’t help but smirk at him. “You sound pretty ungrateful for a kid who wants me to put his dick in my mouth.”

            “Is it my fault that you want to suck my dick just as much as I want you to?”

            He eyes you warily and doesn’t respond, the smile tugging at his lips indicating that you got him. He _does_ want to do this just as bad as you want him to; he _does_ like to suck dick, and most importantly, he loves to suck _your_ dick.

            “Well, I’m too tired to suck your dick right now,” he says, and your heart falls through your feet.

            “Oh,” you moan. “Don’t do this.”

            “I’m not saying I won’t,” he says, and your heart shoots back to its rightful place. “I’m just saying you might have to take charge of the situation.”

            You sit up on your elbows and stare down at your boyfriend. You check your hips, your shirt still hiked precariously up to your chest. They’re definitely marred. Red and yellow and bruised, just like you like them. Your hips are probably your favorite part of your body for Mizuki to mark. They’re where you can feel them the most even a day after. You can’t usually feel anything after it happens, but the soreness of a bruised hip can last for a while if you manage to bend it enough.

            Mizuki is looking up at you, his bangs hanging limply in his heavy-lidded eyes, seemingly trying to tell you that he really _could_ fall asleep right now if you’d prefer. But he doesn’t look sleepy – he looks more like he knows you so well, he knows _this_ so well, he’s done this so many times, that he’s not scared or nervous or anxious for anything. That he knows what’s coming, but he’s not bored by that fact; he’s comforted. He’s comforted, and you are too, that you know each other so well, that you know the other is aware of everything you love, everything you hate, everything you wish you didn’t like, everything you can’t handle at all. You throw him against the wall and fuck his face all the time, and he’s looking at you right now as if to say, _“So, that? Is that what you want to do? Because I’m down. I’m always down.”_

            You reach down for his hand but he cradles the back of his head into your palm instead, and you pull his head up while folding yourself in half to meet him, kissing him lovingly on the mouth, just once, but fully, your lips locking with each other completely. No tongue, just lips. You close your eyes and breathe in. He smells like Black Needle. He’ll probably need to shower after this.

            Then you kick your pants off and grab him by the collar of his jacket, forcing him up and backing him against the bedroom wall. He gasps, surprised at the forceful quickness of your actions, and slams his back against the wall, quickly dropping to his shins. You place yourself in front of him and position your cock near his mouth.

            “Get on your knees.”

            He shifts up, his hands hanging limply at his sides as he stares up at you as if he’s never done this before and he’s shocked. He does this every time, this sort of virginal act, and you hate that it gets to you as much as it does.

            “Come on,” you nod at him. “You know what to do.”

            “I need you to tell me.”

            “Suck my dick,” you tell him, bracing your forearms against the wall.

            “You want me to _what_?”

            You moan and kick at his hands on the floor.

            “Grab my hips.”

            He puts his fingers into the elastic waistband of your briefs but doesn’t pull them down. You sigh and do it for him, finally letting your cock out and he looks up at you, meeting your eyes, his own widening with faux-shock.

            “I’m afraid,” he says, in his mock-frightened voice; the one you know he puts on to make fun of you, otherwise those words would make you stop in your tracks. As it is, his eyes turn sultry as he smirks, and you know he’s going to say something awful: “What if I accidentally bite your dick?”

            You snort through your nose like a bull in arousal, not at all sexy, and just barely stopping yourself from continuing your impression of the animal by running your feet against the carpet before your charge. You grab his hair and force your dick into his mouth, finally, _finally,_ and you’d sigh in relief at his wet warmth, if you could fucking feel it.

            “I’m hoping you _do_ bite my dick,” you tell him, bringing your fingers down to massage his jaw, encouraging his teeth to clamp down. He apparently gives up his good-boy routine as he presses the pads of his fingers into your hips again and you see his cheeks hollow out when he sucks in hard enough for you to feel it. You sigh and rest your forehead against the arm that still’s braced on the wall for a moment, just to take it all in. You lay still for that second, until you remember why you’ve shoved him against the wall in the first place.

            You pull back and make sure you have a firm grip on the hair on the back of his head, and then slam back into his mouth, pulling a loud groan from him. His grip tightens on your skin. You pull back and slam into him again; you pull a loud groan from him again; he tightens his grip again. You pull back, slam into him, and he whines, high-pitched and needy, and his grip loosens. He’s pulled one hand away to try to adjust himself in his tight leather pants: he’s hard too, now. From just three thrusts, he’s already uncomfortably hard. You smirk.

            “See how much you love sucking dick?” you say, continuing to thrust into his mouth. “You already want to get your own pants off. You little slut.”

            He moans around your dick hard, the vibrations enough to go right through you. You grunt as you try to focus on building a rhythm, which isn’t difficult, since he seems to unhinge his jaw and open his throat wide for you with no resistance. This is one of your favorite things, and Mizuki has always loved it. He’s always loved when you fuck his face like this, because, he’s said, he enjoys knowing you want him this bad. And you do – you’d stop in an instant if he asked you to – but you do want him this bad.

            You both fill the room with ungodly sounds; sounds that you know wouldn’t be sexy to anyone listening in, but to you are the hottest things you’ve ever heard: Mizuki’s mouth suctioning against you and popping off loudly every time you pull back too far on accident in your frenzied state; Mizuki opening his mouth wide and sticking his tongue out, begging for your dick to come back by simply moaning from the back of his throat; Mizuki whining and whimpering so high as you fuck into him, high and pleasured and so happy that you wish you could draw this out forever but at the same time know you’re not going to last long.

            Okay, so most of the hot sounds are coming from Mizuki. You’re only grunting like a sweaty kid getting off for the first time. That’s all you ever are with Mizuki, but he doesn’t seem to notice. You hope he never does.

            Then – _then –_ he finally bites down.

            “Oh, _fuck—”_

You stamp your foot instinctually and cover your mouth with your free hand. You bite down on the sinew between your thumb and your forefinger in embarrassment, humiliated by how badly you want this. You didn’t mean to stamp your foot – you didn’t mean to sound that whiney when you swore – you didn’t mean to seem this needy, but you are, and Mizuki’s teeth are the last straw.

            “Ha – harder,” you say quietly, from behind your hand. Your body leans forward against the wall, your chest pressed almost flush against it and your ass sticks out, and suddenly you feel as exposed and vulnerable as when Mizuki fucks you against a wall, even though you’re still very much in control of this situation – physically, at least. His teeth scrape down your piercings, pulling each and every one of them in a slow succession, and your hips start jerking against his mouth on their own. He pops his mouth off eventually to ask:

            “And you think _I’m_ the needy one?”

            You whimper. You try to growl, but you whimper; you try to seem ferocious and domineering but it comes out destitute and wanting. You’re close to begging, but then you feel his teeth again, and the sounds of his throat being fucked fill the room again, those sounds of spit being dried and air being stolen from his lungs, but he still bites down, still sucks you off, still holds your waist in place so that you can lean into the wall like the desperate slut you are.

            “I’m gonna come,” you say finally. You like it when Mizuki surprises you with his orgasm, when he comes wherever he damn well pleases on your body, but Mizuki likes it best when you let him know, so that he can situate himself accordingly. You’ve had this conversation before, at a bar: Koujaku blushed furiously when he admitted he was a spitter, and you grinned before bragging about what a good swallower you were. You both turned to Mizuki, who was sipping his cocktail innocuously, seemingly not even paying attention to the conversation.

            Mizuki is not a spitter. He is not a swallower.

            He pulls his head back and releases your dick wetly, finally digging his nails into the base of your cock and just behind your balls, on the _most_ sensitive area of skin on the outside of your body. You let out a strangled sob and orgasm at last, spurts of semen shooting over his face as he closes one eye in a sort of wink to protect it from your semen. He sticks his tongue out, making sure to bathe it in your cum, and then lets the last drops shoot into his hair, all over his teardrop and down onto his chin, dribbling down onto his throat tattoo, too. He kisses the tip of your dick when you finish, and you cry outwardly as your legs give out and you sink down in front of him. You’re weak. Mizuki always makes you weak.

            Mizuki likes facials. And the only thing that could possibly look better than this right now, better than Mizuki sitting in front of you with his face covered in cum, is Mizuki _naked_ sitting in front of you with his face covered in cum. Still, you like the aesthetic of Mizuki’s cum-covered face paired with his leather jacket and tight pants. It makes him look more desperate, like he couldn’t even wait to get undressed before he sucked your dick, like he couldn’t even think of pleasing himself before he got your dick in his mouth. You whine again. Mizuki is so –

            You know you look worn out, but Mizuki cleans his face like a cat and you can’t help but get turned on again already.

            “Stop it.”

            “Stop what?”

            “Cleaning your face like that.”

            “Like _what_?” Mizuki asks incredulously as he sticks his entire finger down his throat to suck your cum off. Your entire body shakes in pleasure at the sight.

            “I hate you.”

            “Good,” he says, continuing to scoop your semen off his face and lick it from his fingers. “Because now it’s my turn, if you’re down?”

            You shrug and lean forward to unzip his pants and get on your hands and knees to suck him off in return, pushing your ass as high into the air as you can. Of course you’re down. You’re always down.


End file.
